Season Two
by Amelie de Lorraine
Summary: This is my version of the second season of Ringer. Please read and review! Rated T for content that may not be suitable for all viewers.
1. Chapter 1

**Season 2**

**Hello everyone. My name is Amélie and this is my version of Ringer, Season 2. I've read a lot of them and decided to write my own. Please leave a review. **

Bridget stood staring at Henry in shock, her knees trembling. She was standing in Henry Butler's foyer, having just heard one of the biggest shocks of her life, and she couldn't believe it.

"Siobhan wanted me dead?" she repeated for the second time, her heart racing. She didn't know what to think. How could her sister be so cruel, and after she had specifically said she had forgiven her for what she had done? It didn't make sense. Bridget was hurt, very, very hurt. She wanted to crawl into a corner and die. She just couldn't believe it. The room began to spin, and Bridget did everything in her power to prevent herself from vomiting on the hardwood floor.

"I know it's crazy," said Henry, looking grim, "but she blamed you for Sean's death. She wanted revenge on you. I mean, I told her to stop, that _we _couldn't be together if she continued her scheme. It was getting to be too much for me, but she wouldn't listen."

Bridget sank down to the floor and before she knew it, had burst into tears. She thought she had been forgiven, but it wasn't true. Her life was worth nothing now.

"Bridget…" Henry sighed and crossed his arms. "I know my opinion doesn't matter to you, but honestly, I know you didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't your fault that Sean's dead. It was an accident, and if Siobhan can't see that, then it's her problem. I mean," he shrugged, "she was insane. Absolutely, positively insane, and she never once looked at her own faults. Everyone in the world was wrong, except her, and I was stupid enough not to see that at first." He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair. "I never should have gotten involved with her. It really ruined my life."

She could have screamed at blood began to boil. _His_ life was ruined? What about hers? In twenty-four hours, she had lost everything. The man she loved, the daughter she had called her own, and now her sister was still out there somewhere, probably plotting her death. She just couldn't deal with it.

"I have to go," she said, wiping her eyes convulsively, hoping that the tears would somehow stop. "I can't deal with this."

She stood up and turned to walk out Henry's door, but his voice stopped her in a rush.

"There's one more thing you should know," he said. "She was ran off to Paris after staging her suicide and came back in January. That's when she told me everything." There was a long pause, leaving Bridget to wonder for a moment what his point was. "She…she gave birth to twins about a week ago under the name Rebecca Sheldrake. They're at Good Shepherd Memorial…."

"So?" was the only thing that could come out of her mouth. She remembered that Siobhan had been pregnant before her supposed death, but why should she care now? She didn't know if she wanted to hear about Siobhan's doings anymore. If she were going to have Henry's babies, then why did it concern her?

"They're not mine, Bridget," he said, his voice low and calm. "I had a paternity test done."

Tears began to fill her eyes again. If the babies weren't Henry's, then whose were they?

"I'm thinking they're Andrew's," he said. "Or Tyler Barrett's. But, I thought you should know because I didn't think that was something you would want to keep from Andrew."

Her heart clenched. She didn't want to think about Andrew at all. He hated her more than anything now. But, she knew she had to tell him this secret. She couldn't just let his daughters, if they were even his, life without a father, and he had to know that his wife was alive.

She didn't respond, and instead slumped her shoulders and left his brownstone, her entire body trembling. Solomon was waiting in the limo, ready to take her back to the Sheridans' apartment. But, she didn't want to go there.

"I have to tell him she's alive," Bridget said once she had gotten in the passenger seat. "I have to tell him everything, but I'm afraid to face him again."

If she went to his house in the Hamptons, there was a chance he might call security and rat her out as being a fugitive. Could she risk that?

"I think I'll write him a letter," she finally said. "I'll write him a letter, and I'll send him the DVD of her and John Delario. He'll see everything from there, and if he chooses to believe or not, that's on him. Besides," she looked down at her fingers, which still had Siobhan's wedding band and engagement ring, "I need to give these back to him."

* * *

It had been an hour since Machado had called him to say that his apartment had been broken into by Bodaway Macawi, and Andrew had no idea how to respond. A part of him was worried about Bridget. A part of him wanted her to be safe. But, the other part wanted nothing to do with her. The other part wanted her to rot for everything she had done.

He sat on the sofa and stared at his Blackberry for longer than he cared to know, but his fingers wouldn't move. He could vaguely hear the waves pound against the beach outside, much like his heart pounding against his chest. He couldn't get himself to call. He was so betrayed, so hurt, so lied to, that he couldn't contact her. But, then why was there a part in the back of his mind that was telling him to call? Thoughts and images of Bridget flooded his mind, and he just couldn't shake them away. The way she kissed him, smiled at him, made love to him. The images wouldn't leave his head. Were they really all lies? If it had been Catherine who had been attacked, he would have rolled his eyes, and after everything he had learned in the past few hours, had it been Siobhan, he would have thought "Good riddance" and nothing more. He hadn't even flinched upon finding out that she had committed suicide, apart from being shocked and surprised, because he had been so shaken up about learning of her affair. There had been no tears, no thoughts of wanting her back.

He didn't know what to do about Bridget Kelly, the woman who had held his heart in her hands for so long, more than any other woman had.

* * *

The next morning, Juliet woke to find her father asleep on the couch, something he never did. She walked into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water, not knowing what to believe about the past night. She couldn't believe that Bridget had fooled them so well, that she had lied to them about who she was. But, the more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to feel guilty about saying that Bridget was worse than her own mother. Juliet knew that was not true. Her real mother, Catherine, had once smacked her across the face because she had gotten a B on a class project. Then, there was that one time when Catherine had gotten so drunk that she pushed Juliet down the stairs and sprained her wrist. Andrew came home thinking that Juliet had just been a clumsy little girl.

But, that wasn't the worst of her mother's doings. No. The worst of Catherine's doings wasn't even getting Juliet to lie about a rape scandal. It was what she had done when Juliet was twelve, a few months after her parents divorced. She was still angry with her father for his affair with Siobhan and had decided to stay with her mother, but that was probably the biggest mistake of her life. Her body shook as she thought about it. One night, Catherine had brought a drunk man home and had allowed him to climb into Juliet's bed; he kissed her, raped her, and fondled her in places that she would rather not think about. Through it all, she screamed and cried, hoping that her mother would make it stop, but Catherine was nowhere to be found. Juliet had thought about telling her father after the fact, but she couldn't. She had been too afraid and ashamed. Instead, she had tried to block out that memory, tried to pretend that it wasn't her mother's fault, that her mother somehow loved her underneath it all. But, it had done no good. After that one incident, she had developed a very unhealthy attitude toward sex. In other words, she became sex-obsessed. It was one of the reasons why her crush on Mr. Carpenter had come so easy for her, because she already had had that experience with an older man. But, now she knew just how awful it was. She should have told her father right when it happened. It could have gotten her mother locked away for a long time, and her life would have been much easier.

Bridget, on the other hand, had made Juliet's life worth living. She had been there for her no matter what, the way a mother should. Juliet would never forget the day she slapped Mr. Carpenter across the face for what he had supposedly done. That had to be a mark of true love, didn't it? Had her feelings for Juliet and her father been genuine, or had it all been an act?

She walked out of the kitchen and decided to take a walk on the beach. She needed some air. Quietly, as to not wake her father, she walked towards the front door. That was when she noticed it. A brown package lying on the welcome mat, a piece of white paper neatly folded on top.

Curiously, she picked it up.

It was a letter, and she was shocked by what she read:

_Dear Andrew,_

_I know you probably don't ever want to hear from me again, but I had to let you know this: I was wrong. Siobhan is alive and somewhere in New York. Henry confessed that she staged her suicide because she knew someone was after her, and she knew that I was desperate enough that I would take her place. She wanted me dead because she blamed me for her son's death. I know it's awful, I thought she had forgiven me, but that was what she wanted. In the package is the DVD my bodyguard Solomon found of her and John Delario, the man who killed Gemma, as you probably remember. It is a video of them leaving the docks a few hours after I thought she drowned. Henry tells me that from there she spent about four months in Paris and then moved back in with him in January. But that's not all._

_Do you remember when the doctor called and told me I was pregnant? Well, as it turns out, Siobhan was_

* * *

_pregnant. With twin girls. Henry says she gave birth to them about a week ago at Good Shepherd Memorial Hospital under the name Rebecca Sheldrake. He had a paternity test done, and they're not his. I don't know if they're yours or not, but I would get a test done to make sure. If they are, then congratulations. _

_I also wanted to give you back your rings, Siobhan's driver's license, and her phone. I know you probably don't need them, but since they aren't mine, I thought I would return them. So, here they are. _

_I also wanted you to know that I never once lied about loving you and Juliet. My arrangement with the two of you was only supposed to be temporary. I never meant to fall in love with you, but it happened. I was going to leave, I had everything packed, but the night I saw Juliet vomiting in the toilet, I came to know the severity of her situation. I knew that if I didn't stay, then she would have wound up just like me. A drug addict with nothing to show for her life. So, I had to help her, and from then on, my feelings blossomed into love for the both of you, a love that I had never felt for anyone before. I hope that someday you two will find it in your hearts to forgive me, but I'll understand if you don't. I just wanted you to know that I truly love the both of you and I always will. _

_Again, I'm sorry for everything._

_Love always,_

_Bridget_

By the time she had finished reading the letter, Juliet was bawling, and her heart was strangely warmed. She knew she shouldn't, but she believed what she had just read.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" came Andrew's voice from behind her. He was so quiet; she hadn't even heard him approach.

But instead of responding verbally, she turned and handed the letter over to him. She wiped her eyes and watched as he read it, his face showing so many emotions that she couldn't even read them. After reading, he stood there for a long time, staring at the package in his hand, obviously contemplating watching the DVD that was inside. Juliet didn't know what to do or how to respond, so she sat there silently.

Finally, her father spoke. "I'm going back to New York."

Juliet stood up, startled. "What do you mean? Aren't you going to watch the DVD first?"

"No." He said simply. "DVDs can be faked. I'm going to the hospital to see for myself if Siobhan was ever there."

"Can I come?" she asked, wanting to see that bitch herself and do nothing but punch her in the stomach for everything she had done.

"No," he responded shortly. "You're staying here where it's safe."


	2. Chapter 2

Season 2

By the time Andrew reached Good Shepherd Memorial Hospital, his mind was in a haze. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't believe that he might have twin daughters. He couldn't believe anything that he had read in Bridget's letter. He had so many questions. Was she telling the truth? Why would her sister blame her for son's death?

All these questions and more jumbled themselves inside his head as he raced down the white, disinfected halls, not caring who he ran into along the way.

"Rebecca Sheldrake," he said to the receptionist as soon as he reached the desk. "She gave birth to twins a week ago. Are they still here?"

The receptionist, a fat woman whose make up far outweighed her body mass, made some clicks on the computer.

"Sheldrake," she mumbled. "Sheldrake...Here it is. Sheldrake, Rebecca. Delivered twin girls via Cesarean…one week and three days ago."

His heart stopped. So, it wasn't a lie. Bridget had been telling the truth.

"They were born prematurely," the woman said. "About four weeks so. They're still in the ICU."

"May I see them?" Andrew asked. "I'm…" he couldn't bear to call himself Siobhan's husband, "I'm an acquaintance of hers." At first, it seemed like a stupid thing to call himself, but the more he thought about it, the more it rang true. He and Siobhan were nothing more than acquaintances…. Had they ever been anything more?

"Yes, of course," she said. "The ICU is just down the hallway and through those doors to the left."

Without even thanking the woman, Andrew ran past the desk, ready to have a full-blown nervous breakdown. He couldn't breathe, nor could he believe anything that he had just learned.

As soon as he reached his destination, his heart stopped again. There she was, standing in front of the glass, a bottle of apple juice in hand, staring at her children lying in the incubators, and wearing that ridiculous bun.

He wanted nothing more than to smack her, to scream at her for everything she had done. But, he didn't. Instead, he walked calmly over next to her, and waited for her to make the first move.

It took her a moment to notice him, but when she did, she let out a loud gasp and slapped her hand over her mouth. He could see vivid scratches and cuts across her forehead, but he didn't care how she got those. He was more focused on the color of her face, which blanched to a ghostly white upon seeing him. She was lost for words, having no explanation as to what she was doing there.

He stared her down, hatred boiling up in him, until she finally broke the silence.

"You found me," she said, much more coolly than he had expected her to sound. "How did you find out?"

"Bridget…told me everything, Siobhan," he replied, deciding not to look at her, but instead focusing on the two babies before him. They were hard to see through the glass incubators, but he kept his focus. He was so angry he couldn't look his wife in the face. But, he had so many questions to ask her. He kept his voice low.

"What made you do it? Why did you cheat on me?"

There was a long silence before she responded. When she did, her tone was flat.

"Because I didn't love you anymore. Simple as that."

He sighed, defeated. "Did you_ ever_ love me, Siobhan?"

His blood turned cold as he saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe in the beginning. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I loved you in the beginning. But, then I met Henry." She said the last sentence very matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Are they mine?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, as though she didn't care. "I only slept with you and Henry up until September, when I met Tyler in Paris. I was already pregnant by then."

Tyler? He thought and felt a wave of shock run through him. Tyler Barrett? His own employee had screwed his wife right under his nose? He clenched his fists. It took him everything in his power to prevent himself from strangling her right there.

"You can have them, you know." she said. "The girls. They're all yours. Had I known they were yours when I found out about them, I would have gotten rid of them in Paris. But, I was sure they were Henry's. Boy, was I wrong."

His felt his knees collapsing and his stomach turning. He could have vomited right then and there. He couldn't believe what she had just said. He wanted to pull out all of his hair and run screaming through the hallways. But, instead, tears filled his eyes.

"You are an unimaginable bitch," he breathed. The tears fell, and his wife chuckled.

"You wanted the truth, so I told you," she said, taking a swig of the apple juice in her hand. "So how is my sister? What was it like to sleep with a whore?"

He whipped his head around, tears flicking from his cheeks. "How dare you accuse your sister of being a whore after everything _you've _done? You have no right to judge her, or anyone else. As far as I'm concerned, you're a thousand times worse than she ever was."

He couldn't believe he was saying it, but it was the truth. In the past seven months, Bridget had shown him more love and care than Siobhan ever had in the past seven years. But, he didn't know if he believed it to be true love. He didn't know if he could forgive her.

For the first time since their conversation began, Siobhan looked at him with anger in her eyes. "That bitch killed my son," she said. "Of course, she's worse than I am."

"Is that what you think? Is that why you set her up to die, Siobhan?" he asked in disbelief. He still didn't know the circumstances surrounding Siobhan's son's death, but his gut told him that Bridget had nothing to do with it.

"Yes," she responded. Again, as though it were obvious. "I knew that someone was after me, and I knew she needed security, so I let her take my place. I thought for sure you were behind it, that you would kill her, and then I would have been rid of the both of you."

He was beyond disgusted. His heart clenched, his knees trembled. He felt like he was going to die. He closed his eyes to pull himself together.

"I'm divorcing you," he was finally able to say. "I'm fucking divorcing you, and once it's final, I want you to leave New York and never come back. I _never _want to look at your face again. I'll give you half of my wealth if you want, anything to get you away from me."

"Likewise," she said, taking another sip. "I'll sign anything you want. Just do it quick."

* * *

Juliet had been sitting at her laptop all day, looking at nothing, wondering when her father would arrive back. He had been gone over twelve hours. He had to have found something on Siobhan after having been gone that long.

She had begun to drift off to sleep just as she heard the front door unlock.

Andrew walked in, looking stone-faced and tired.

_Oh no. _She leapt up off the couch to greet him, but he didn't respond. Instead he walked into the kitchen and opened up the liqueur cabinet. She followed him.

"Daddy?" she asked uncertainly. "Did…did you find Siobhan?"

He was searching for something. He took out bottles and put them back. "Yes," he responded shortly.

"What about the babies?" she asked. "Were they yours?"

He finally chose a bottle of Merlot and slammed it on the counter. "Yes," was all he said.

She wanted to hear him say more than one syllable words, so she pressed him. "So, what did she say to you? Did she apologize?"

She knew right after she said it, that it was a stupid question, especially given the look that ran across his face. It was one of pure hatred. He gritted his teeth and yanked open the drawer underneath the cabinet where he kept the corkscrew.

"She told me…that she would have aborted those babies had she known they were mine."

Juliet felt her blood freeze. She stared at him, lost for words. She didn't know what to say, but suddenly, she got the feeling that Siobhan wasn't the only one who had wanted to abort Andrew's children. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of Catherine, who had openly told her that the only reason why she had given birth to her was for Andrew wanting children. Had he not wanted her, Juliet had a feeling she wouldn't be alive.

He looked in the drawer, but instead of pulling out a corkscrew, like she thought he would, he pulled out a paring knife.

She gasped, thinking the worst. "Daddy, what are you doing with that?" she shouted. "Don't hurt yourself!"

He chuckled mirthlessly and stared at the blade. "I can't find the corkscrew," he said stonily. "I have to open the bottle somehow."

But, somehow, she knew that wasn't his intention. Before he even began to open the bottle, however, he burst into tears. It was the first time in her life that Juliet had ever seen her father cry, and she thought it wouldn't be his last. She came closer and wrapped her arms around him, giving him as much comfort as she could muster, and they wept together, a broken family.


	3. Chapter 3

Season 2

Three weeks went by, and Andrew's life had turned upside-down. The paternity test came back, and yes, he was now the father of two premature daughters. He didn't know how to react. He didn't know how he felt. He supposed it was a bit of everything. Happiness that he really did have two more children, sadness at having to raise them alone, guilt at ever getting involved with Siobhan in the first place, fear about the future of his daughters.

But, despite their prematurity, they were just as beautiful as Juliet had been seventeen years ago. He only wished he had been there for their birth. He remembered Juliet's vividly. Only twenty-one years old, he sat next to Catherine, trying to calm her down as she screamed for the doctors to "get this fucking baby out." At the time, he thought it was just her labor pains talking. Or maybe that's what he had hoped it to be. Anyhow, once he held Juliet in his arms for the first time, he felt happier than he ever had before. He hadn't even thought of a name for her until that moment, and "Juliet" instantly came to mind as he looked at her, reminded of Romeo's words "I never saw true beauty till this night." He only wished now that he had been a better father to her. He had tried to give her everything she needed. Hell, he had tried to be both mother and father to her, as Catherine had all but been absent from her life, never wanting anything to do with her. He might have done well in the beginning, but he knew he eventually strayed, putting his mind more toward work than her, and he knew he couldn't do the same to Portia and Regan.

But, what could he do? With the divorce proceedings, in a matter of months, Siobhan would be out of his life for good, and like Catherine, she wanted nothing to do with her children. Once the renovations to the penthouse were done, he had brought them home from the hospital and immediately hired a nanny to look after them while he worked. Just as he had done with Juliet. He didn't know what else to do.

His first day back at work was miserable, because as soon as he walked into his office, he was bombarded with images of him and Siobhan on his desk. He immediately began putting them in boxes. He couldn't look at them anymore. He didn't want anything to do with her.

But, then he came across one photo that had just been taken in the last few months, back in March, at yet another investor party that his company held. The woman in the photograph with him had a smile on her face that was brighter than the sun, and the way she was clinging to him made him want to cry again. He thought he had had the perfect marriage with her, but he was wrong.

A sudden knock woke him from his thoughts, and Tim Arbogast appeared in the doorway.

"I'm glad to see you back," the older man said. "But, you look terrible."

"I know," Andrew responded shortly. He knew he looked terrible. He hadn't eaten much or slept well in days as a result of his newfound father duties and it didn't help that he couldn't keep from cutting himself shaving.

"Look, Andrew," Tim walked into the room and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know this must be hard for you, thinking you had the perfect marriage and finding out she was nothing but a lying piece of trash."

"You have no idea," Andrew said, still staring down at the photo.

"But, you have to let it go," said Arbogast.

"I know," Andrew said again. He felt so broken.

"Are you sure you need to come back today?" Arbogast asked. "If you need more time off—"

"No," Andrew said vehemently. He had two new daughters to care for now. He couldn't hide forever. "I'm fine."

Before Arbogast could respond, there was another knock at the door.

"Mr. Arbogast," the receptionist, Claudine, looked nervous as she stepped into the office. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but your grandsons are downstairs. Their nanny dropped them off."

"Why?" asked Arbogast.

"I don't know," she replied. "She said that your son-in-law gave her money and told her to drop them off here. She didn't say why."

Andrew flinched. He never wanted to hear any mention of Henry Butler again.

Arbogast nodded. "Alright. I'll take care of it. Will you be alright, Andrew?"

"Yes, sir. I'll get to work," Andrew said. No doubt he had a ton of emails to answer.

After Arbogast left, he put the photo of himself and Bridget in the box with the rest of Siobhan's photos and logged on to his computer.

As he had suspected, he had a whole slew of emails from a hoard of investors. He decided to go down the line and answer them one by one, starting from oldest to newest. It took him close to three hours, but finally, he reached the last one, and discovered that it wasn't from an investor at all.

_Andrew, _it read

_I knew that if I sent this from my own email that you would delete it without a second thought, so I had to send it under the guise of an investor. I know that I'm the last man in the world that you want to hear from, but I don't care. You need to hear me out. _

_By now, Bridget's probably told you everything she knows about Siobhan. But, one thing I didn't tell her was that, while she was in Paris, Siobhan had Tyler Barrett open several fake accounts and subsequently stole about thirty million dollars from your company. Of course, she did nothing but spend it on fancy hotels and jewelry, and other petty things that don't matter. For a while, I was in on it, too, but when she lied to me about the paternity of her daughters, I stole the rest of it from her, and now I'm giving it back to you. You'll find it in the account I used to invest._

_Now is the time for me to tell you that I am truly, deeply, irrevocably sorry for what I did. I know you probably don't believe me, but I know that I never should have slept with your wife. I never should have looked at her. I deserved the punch you gave me and so many more. She was the most manipulative, horrible, twisted woman I've ever known, and I can't believe I fell for her. I should have said no. I should have walked away, but I didn't, and now my life is ruined in more ways than I can ever say. However, I don't think I can say the same for you. I think you still have a chance at happiness._

_Bridget loves you. I know she does. I saw her face the night you were shot, and I'm telling you right now that no one could fake it. I think I can honestly say that between you taking a bullet for her and her reaction to it that I saw unconditionally love for the first time in my life that night. So, don't let her go. Give her a second chance. Forgive her, marry her, raise your daughters with her. You were meant to be. I just know it._

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I don't know where I'm going, but I'll find my way somehow. I can no longer take of my children, so I'm leaving them with Tim. He'll give them a life that I never could. _

_Henry Butler_

* * *

Bridget turned her key to Solomon's apartment and let out a long sigh as the door opened with a creak. She had had a long day, ten hours on her feet to be exact, and she couldn't wait to pass out on the couch. Since leaving Andrew's home, she had gotten a job at a McDonald's as a cashier and was working her butt off to find her own place. But, until then, she was stuck living on Solomon's fold-out couch. His apartment wasn't big at all. One bedroom, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and an even tinier living room. It was strange to her. She had expected that with the amount of money she had been paying him as Siobhan that he could have afforded much better, but as it turns out, he was putting most of that money into child support. She supposed that was best, though. His children could live happy lives with the money.

She went to the bathroom and pulled off her greasy clothes, watching the salt fall out as the clothes dropped to the floor. It was amazing how much salt from the fries she accumulated over the day. She turned on the bathtub faucet and let the water run for thirty seconds or so before sliding in. The water on her feet felt amazing.

After her long bath, she dressed herself in some old ragged pajamas and put her hair in a towel and then made her way to the couch to flip through channels. There was nothing on except for a re-run of the _Kardashians _and some stupid jewelry auction show. Since she needed something to make her laugh, she chose the former.

About an hour later, Solomon arrived home, wearing his usual suit and tie.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied. "How was work?"

She rolled her eyes. "Horrible, of course. But, it beats being a stripper." Wasn't that the truth. She stood up. "Would like me to fix dinner?"

"Sure," he said. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

As he made his way to the bathroom, Bridget went into the kitchen. Solomon had just gone to the store yesterday, so the refrigerator should have been packed with food. She picked out a pork sirloin that she could bake, some broccoli to steam, some potatoes to mash, and some onions to sauté for the pork sauce. She greased a glass pan and put the pork in the oven. Then, she chopped the onions and started on the sauce.

However, as the onions began to brown, the smell began to overpower her, and she found herself running to the bathroom, not caring that Solomon was in there behind the curtain. She started vomiting profusely, gripping the toilet with all her might.

"Bridget? Are you ok?" Solomon turned off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and was soon holding her hair back as she continued to puke.

That was when a horrible thought occurred to her. She gripped the toilet even harder.

"Solomon," she said once the vomiting subsided. "What's today's date?"

"Um…" he grabbed his phone off the sink and looked at it. "It's the ninth of May."

Her heart stopped as she realized. "I'm almost three weeks late."

Solomon looked at her bewildered. "Three weeks late for what?"

She stood up and it took all her courage to prevent herself from screaming. "My period! It's three weeks late. I was supposed to start on the twenty-first of April."

His eyes widened as he understood what that meant. "Well…are you sure you didn't just skip a month? Doesn't that happen sometimes?"

"It's never happened to me before," she said as she began to panic. "I'm always on point with my periods. They never skip. I mean, I knew I was late, but I thought it was just because of stress, but now I'm really worried."

Her heart began to beat faster. What would she tell Andrew? _How _would she tell him?

"Ok," said Solomon, trying to calm her down. "I'll go get you a test. Just let me get dressed."

He walked out of the bathroom, leaving her in absolute fear. She never in her life had ever planned on being pregnant. Not until she had met Andrew Martin, that is. Since then, it was all she dreamed about. But, she wanted a child _with_ him, not a child of his to raise all by herself.

When Solomon left, she laid herself down on the couch and cried. She couldn't believe what she had gotten herself into.

It seemed like it to took him forever to get back with the test, and when he did, she didn't want to take it. She was too afraid of what the answer might be.

"I bought you three sticks," he said, putting the plastic bag down in front of her. "Just to be sure. I'd start drinking a lot of water if I were you."

She didn't want to, but she knew she had to do it. She had to know, and the sooner she knew, the sooner she could find a way to tell Andrew.

She slugged herself off the couch and went into the kitchen for some tap water. Before long, she had consumed eight glasses and her stomach was about to burst. Still, it took about an hour for her to have to pee, and when she finally had to, she couldn't even hold it in to make it to the toilet.

And before long, she was staring at three sticks, all with plus signs, staring back at her.

* * *

Juliet arrived home from school around four-thirty, and as the elevator door opened, she took in the sight of her apartment. It wasn't until then that she realized just how much had changed since Bodaway Macawi's attack. The whole floor and ceiling in the foyer were brand new, as was the paint, and more items than she cared to count were missing from the house, including Siobhan's stupid portrait. What an ego that woman had to have to make such a huge deal of herself. It made Juliet sick to her stomach.

"Daddy?" she called, uncertain that he was even home. He usually stayed at work late, but since it was his first day back, she didn't know if he would or not.

"I'm with the babies," she heard his voice down the hallway, in the nursery. It was once the guest bedroom, but he had converted it into a cozy spot for the babies, miraculously, in a very short amount of time. Actually, he had hired someone to do it for him, but they did a very good job. The walls were a pretty lavender color with matching bedsheets in the crib and there was a beautiful rocking chair that came in very useful for Andrew in the middle of the night when the babies cried.

Juliet made it into the room and saw him sitting in the chair holding one of the twins in his arms, while the other was asleep in the crib.

"Regan doesn't want to sleep," he commented. "I thought of singing her a lullaby, but I was afraid it might wake Portia."

"You should do it," Juliet said. "I'm sure she'll fall right to sleep." She loved her father's voice. He could really sing, and he used to do it a lot when she was little. Almost every night, if he wasn't reading her a Welsh fairy tale.

"So how was school?" he asked. "Did you miss much?"

"Duh, Daddy," she said. "A lot. I have so much make-up work. But, I did get to see my friends. I'm really happy about that."

"That's good," he said and smiled down at Regan. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yeah," she said, coming closer until she was right next to the rocking chair he was sitting in. "They are."

There was silence for a few moments, as Juliet thought of what else to say. She wanted nothing more than to discuss Bridget. She had done a lot of thinking about her in the past few weeks, and while what she did was disheartening, Juliet knew that she herself was no better. After all, she had scammed her father out of ten million dollars. That was certainly no angelic move, and he had forgiven her. Was it possible that he could forgive Bridget, too? She certainly wanted him to. They needed her back in their lives. She had made them better.

"Daddy," she finally said. "Can we talk…about Bridget?"

He looked up at her with an emotion she couldn't quite read. "Why?"

"Because…Daddy, I know you love her and I know she loved us. I forgive her because I had no right to judge her after what I did. Don't you remember how happy you were with her? I'd never seen you happier. We were like a perfect family. You can't possibly think it was all fake."

Andrew looked down at Regan. She had fallen asleep with her cheek against his chest. "I'm hurt." he said quietly. "I've been hurt by so many women, I just…I don't know."

He stood up and placed Regan in the crib next to Portia and paused before saying, "She was better to me than anyone I've ever known. I really thought I had a life with her." He swallowed and rubbed his eyes.

* * *

He couldn't help thinking about what he had read in Henry's email. He had tried not to think about it all day. Why should he believe anything Henry Butler said? He had wrong Andrew more than any man in the world.

But, he couldn't break what he wrote from his mind. Unconditional love. He had certainly felt that for the woman he took the bullet for. He thought about that night, how he would have done anything not to lose her, because he really felt like they had something. He would have never thought doing that a year ago.

"Daddy, are you ok?" Juliet brought him from his thoughts.

"I'm just thinking," he said. His mind was racing. He didn't know what to believe.

He loved her. He knew he did, but was she worthy of his love?

"Is she worthy of my love?" he asked allowed. He hadn't meant for Juliet to respond.

"Am_ I_ worthy of your love, Daddy?" she asked. "Come on. You forgave me. Give her a second chance…please."

A second chance. He didn't know if he could.

"I don't know." He said.

"Daddy, please!" his daughter begged. "You're just being stubborn! I was a horrible person because of what I did, and you still love me. I mean, we've all done bad stuff. Siobhan cheated on you, Mom tried to have us all killed… I mean, all of us are bad in some ways… Well, except maybe you. You haven't done anything wrong."

His gut twisted. _No. _That wasn't true. What about all the clients he had defrauded over the years? But, Juliet couldn't know that. He sighed and turned to look at her, and suddenly, he was reminded of his own feelings about the Ponzi scheme. His entire career had been a lie. He had wanted forgiveness from Siobhan, no, from Bridget, and she had given it to him.

"_What we have is worth the pain" _he remembered saying to her in the loft moments before he was shot. Was it true?

He shook his head and kissed Juliet on the cheek. "I need to think about it."


	4. Chapter 4

Season 2

After showing Solomon the results of the tests, Bridget had broken down and cried her eyes out for what felt like hours.

"_They're positive," she kept saying. "They're all fucking positive. What am I going to do?"_

_Solomon shook his head. "I don't know. All I do know is that you need to see a doctor. I'll make an appointment for you, but other than that, I don't know what you can do." He sat down next to her on the couch and put a hand on her shoulder. "I could say that I understand what you're going through, but I really just can't imagine."_

_All she could do was bury her face in his chest and sob. _

Luckily, Solomon was able to book an appointment for the next morning, thank goodness. They arrived at Bellevue Hospital around eight and sat in the waiting area for about thirty minutes, Bridget hugging herself around the knees and crying. She didn't care how stupid it looked and subsequently ignored the many stares she was receiving from the other pregnant women holding hands with their husbands and picking out nursery décor via their smart phones. She couldn't believe this. She was pregnant with her brother-in-law's child.

"Bridget Kelly," a nurse called her name, making her stomach lurch. She was so afraid and ashamed to be doing this.

"Come on," Solomon insisted and took her arm. "It'll be fine."

She trudged to a back room where she changed into a paper gown. She wished she could have simply taken off her pants.

"The doctor will be with you in a moment," the nurse said and left, leaving Bridget alone. She took a seat on the paper-lined table and Solomon knocked on the door.

"May I come in now?" he asked, not having wanted to be in there while she was changing.

"Yeah," she said shortly.

He walked in and took a seat in a chair next to a crate of Legos.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Very sick," she responded truthfully, looking down at her hands. Her stomach was in the most twisted knot ever.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "But, it'll be ok…eventually."

But, she wanted it to be ok right now, with Andrew, but she knew it would never be that way. She buried her face in her hands and cried some more, until the doctor, a large redheaded woman in lime green scrubs, finally arrived with the monitor in tow.

"Hello Miss Kelly," she said. "I'm Dr. Griffith. Are you ready to be examined?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Bridget said flatly. She laid herself down on the table and lifted up her gown to reveal her stomach.

After hooking up the monitor to the wall, the doctor placed the sonogram apparatus over her stomach and Bridget looked at the sonogram monitor. She couldn't see anything, really, except what had to be her bladder and her uterus, but as the doctor moved the apparatus around, she heard something that made her jump slightly.

"Is that a heartbeat?" she asked, hearing the sound echo all around her.

"Yes it is." The doctor smiled and moved the wand around her stomach some more. "Since you're so early on, you can't see much on the monitor, as you can probably tell. But, the baby should be in this area right here." She circled a spot on the monitor with her finger. It was barely visible, but there was a tiny spot of something solid. "Do you think you could tell me when your missed period was supposed to be? That way we can pin-point about where you are."

"I was supposed to start April twenty-first," Bridget responded. "About three weeks ago, but..." it was almost embarrassing to admit. "I haven't been sexually active for about four."

But, Dr. Griffith didn't seem to be off put by this. "Then, I would say you're at probably around four to five weeks."

_Four to five weeks, _she thought. So it happened shortly after Catherine was apprehended. That made perfect sense. She and Andrew had been very happy then.

"Thank you," she said, trying to smile.

"You're welcome," the doctor said happily. "I hope you two will be very happy with your new baby. Is this your first?"

Bridget's face fell and she looked over at Solomon.

He stuttered and let out a very odd chuckle. "A-actually, I'm just a friend."

"Oh…" the doctor realized her mistake. "I'm sorry. Well, I hope you're happy anyway. I'll let you go now, unless you have any more questions?"

"Yes, um…" Bridget swallowed. "Could you give me a list of prenatal vitamins and foods that I should be eating?" As though she could afford them. She hadn't even received her first minimum wage paycheck yet.

"Yes," the doctor said. "I'll give you a list right away. I'll be right back."

Once she left, Bridget sighed. "I still have to go to work today," she said. Her shift started at eleven.

"Yeah," said Solomon. "And it would probably be a good idea to tell your bosses that you're pregnant. There's a chance you might not be able to work in the last trimester, you know."

"Yeah," she said. "I know." What would she do then?

* * *

Andrew arrived late for work. Two hours late. The nanny had called to say she was in traffic, but he hadn't thought it would have taken her that long to get to his apartment. When he finally got to work, Tim Arbogast was there, but he didn't seem to mind Andrew's tardiness. At least, he wasn't angry. He appeared more concerned than anything else.

"Is everything alright?" he asked as Andrew appeared in the doorway.

Andrew nodded, not knowing exactly what to say. "It was my daughter." Not a complete lie.

But, Arbogast didn't ask any more questions. "I know what you mean. One day with my grandsons and they're already driving me off the walls."

"Have you had any luck in locating Butler?" Andrew asked, not knowing _why _he asked. He didn't particularly care.

Arbogast shook his head. "Not yet."

Andrew sighed. "I'll get to work."

He walked to his office and tried to focus, but his mind kept wandering to Bridget. He had thought about her all night, and he couldn't help crying into the pillow on the side of the bed that had been hers for seven months.

Maybe…she_ was_ worthy of forgiveness. She had been the most wonderful wife to him and the perfect mother to Juliet. With her, their lives were better than they ever could have imagined. And he couldn't forget that she had forgiven _him _for all of his lies_. _

He rose from his desk and took out her photo from the box that was still in the corner. He traced her image with his finger. He remembered the day she had confronted him about the Ponzi scheme and how ashamed he was. He thought he had lost her love forever, but eventually, she forgave him. Then, there was the night he was shot, how he declared his undying love for her and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her in his arms.

_"What we have is worth the pain"_ kept echoing in his head. He had believed it so strongly that night and a voice deep in the back of his head kept telling him that it was true. Was it his heart talking? Or was it simply desperation, a yearning to have the perfect woman? Juliet had been quick to forgive Bridget and her own words haunted him.

_"All of us are bad in some ways...Well, except maybe you. You haven't done anything wrong."_ He knew that wasn't true, but Bridget hadn't cared. She had forgiven him.

"_I needed to believe that you might forgive me, that somehow you might love me for me,"_ she had said the last night they had spoken, right before he kicked her out. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, her tears, but he hadn't put the dots together. But, now he was rethinking everything. The look in her eyes now seemed so sincere the more he thought on it, and her words mirrored his own thoughts the night he had told _her_ the truth.

Looking down at Bridget's photo, he realized then and there that he was nothing more than a hypocrite, and a strange feeling overtook him. It took a while for him to register it, but he came to the conclusion that it was a feeling of liberty, of finally admitting that he was in the wrong. He took a deep breath and his heart suddenly began to warm. He suddenly knew what he had to do and grabbed his phone from his pocket.

He scrolled down until he found the number he was looking for.

"Solomon Vessida. How may I be of service?" the voice at the other end of the line said after two rings.

"Solomon. This is Andrew Martin." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I need to know where Bridget is."

* * *

"Hey. Do you want to go to Starbucks with me?"

Juliet slammed her locker door shut and found herself staring into the face of Tessa Banner, her partner in crime.

"Do you?" Tessa persisted with a smile. "We haven't hung out in a long time."

Hung out? Juliet looked at her incredulously. She and Tessa never "hung out." She wasn't even sure if they were really friends, but after Catherine had hired a man to beat Tessa to a pulp, she certainly felt some sympathy for her. Still, she didn't know if she could call it "friendship."

"Why do you want to hang out with me all of a sudden?" Juliet had to ask, a little meaner than she had intended it to sound.

"Because," said Tessa. "You just seem…I don't know, like, really sad lately and I wanted to help you."

Juliet sighed and looked down at her feet. She_ was_ very sad. Maybe some time out would do her some good.

"Sure," she said. "Let's go to Starbucks." What harm could that do?

When they got there, Tessa ordered a vanilla bean frappuccino and Juliet got a chai tea latte. Once their drinks were ready, they sat down in a booth in the far corner of the café.

Tessa took a sip of her drink through a straw. "Mmmm….this thing is better than sex."

Juliet couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"What?" Tessa asked. "It's true. I would know. I've done it with four different guys."

"_Four different guys_?" Juliet echoed in disbelief, hoping that her voice was low so that no one around them could hear. The cafe was packed for this time of day.

"Yeah," said Tessa matter-of-factly. "My first time was when I was fifteen." She took another sip of her drink. "What about you?"

Juliet looked at her, feeling perplexed. "What about me?"

"I mean, how old were you when you lost your virginity?"

Juliet could feel her face grow hot, the way it did when she was ashamed, and a horrible flashback consumed her brain. She could remember everything. The heat of his liqueur-infused breath on her face, the feeling of him ripping off her clothes and tearing her legs apart, forcing himself inside her, pulling her long dark hair. She even remembered the smell of his own hair and the feeling of his stubble against her cheek. She had never felt so helpless and scared in her life.

"Juliet?" Tessa's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you ok?"

Juliet looked down at her drink, which she had even touched yet, and took a deep breath. "I was twelve," she finally said stonily.

"Twelve?" Tessa repeated and took another sip of her frappuccino. "That's awfully little. Who was the guy?"

Juliet found herself shaking her head. "I don't know. I never saw his face. It was too dark."

_"What?"_ Tessa clearly did not understand. Juliet looked her in the eye. "How is that possible? Was it at a rave or something? I didn't think they let twelve-year-olds in."

Juliet sighed again. "Tessa, we may not be the best of friends yet, but we've been through a lot, so...can you keep a secret…please?" She didn't know if she wanted to tell her. She had never told anyone this before.

"Yeah, sure. Of course," said her blonde companion. "You can trust me. But, really, losing your virginity, no matter what the age, is nothing to be ashamed of. It's a natural part of life, you know."

"I know," said Juliet. "That's not why it's a secret." She took another deep breath and let it go. Her mouth began to move and she couldn't stop it. "When I was twelve, my parents got a divorce and I went to Miami to live with my mom…" Tears began to fill her eyes and before she knew it, they were falling on the table. "It was ok at first, not the best, but it was ok. She left me alone to do her own thing, but then, she started to going to parties and clubs and bars and stuff, you know, and then…" she shook her head, "one night, she came home from somewhere and brought back a guy…and he…." She couldn't finish her sentence.

But, Tessa didn't need her to. "And he _raped_ you?" Her eyes were as wide as saucers and Juliet could see her entire body shaking, but then an incredulous look made its way across her face. "Juliet, is that _really_ what happened? It's not a lie? Are you sure? Lying about rape isn't the way to get what you want. I know you know that now. Or, at least you _should_ know that by now."

She looked at her sourly and took another sip of her drink. "Honestly, Juliet. Don't do stuff like that. It's not good and you know it."

Juliet wiped her puffy eyes convulsively, wanting to scream, but she kept her voice as low as possible. She didn't want anyone else to hear. "I'm not lying!" she hissed. "It's the truth. I remember waking up to him and my mom talking and laughing, and the next think I know, he was in my bed, on top of me."

After a few moments, Tessa's mouth dropped to the table in realization. "You're serious?" she said. "What-what did your mom do?"

Juliet shook her head. "I—I—I screamed and screamed all night, but, she didn't _do_ _anything. _She never came to help me and then, when he left the next morning, I told her and she…" she gasped as she tried to catch her breath, remembering that horrible morning, finding Catherine lying on the couch in the living room, surrounded by expensive empty bottles of wine and sleeping off her hang over. "She slapped me in my face and called me a dirty slut."

She buried her face in her hands and continued to sob. A part of her had wanted to let this all out for years, while the other part had wanted to bury it. She had spent the six years since searching for proof that her mother truly loved her, but she had found none. With this incident in particular, she had turned her feelings inward, into guilt and shame, and had tried to believe that it _wasn't _Catherine's fault, that it was her own.

"Well, now we know why it was so easy for her to come up with a fucking rape scheme!" Tessa nearly shouted. She slammed her drink on the table, not caring who was looking. "Because she already knew you had experience with rape! Juliet, why didn't you tell your father?"

Juliet let the tears fall when wiping at her eyes became futile. "Because…I was afraid… that I enjoyed it." She sniffed, still keeping her voice low when she responded. "I mean, I _didn't _enjoy it at all. It was awful, but then, afterwards," she pursed her lips in hopes that it would stifle the tears, but it was useless. "Afterwards, I—I got really obsessed with sex. I started looking at porn and masturbating and all that, and I knew that if I told someone, they'd think it was my fault."

Tessa's face had paled to the color of a piece of printer paper and her eyes bulged wider than headlights. "Juliet, rape is _never_ your fault. You were a _victim_. It was your _mother's_ fault for not doing anything to stop it." She reached across the table and squeezed Juliet's trembling hand. "She deserves to be locked up forever! You have got to tell your father. He can do something, can't he? He can get his lawyers to try for life in prison or something."

"No." Juliet shook her head again. "I told you before. She's already in a psychiatric place for holding us hostage and shit... She's absolutely crazy."

"Juliet..." Tessa shook her head. "That is _not_ craziness. What she did to you, allowing that to happen, was _pure, unadulterated, evilness_. She had to know what she was doing. She doesn't deserve a cushy life in a psych ward where they treat her like a fucking baby. In fact, I think she deserves to be butchered, or at least impaled through the fucking vagina with one of Dracula's pokers. Then, she'd know exactly how you felt." Her face had gone completely red with anger and her breathing grew harsh. "I don't understand why you don't want to tell your father! I mean, why wait so long to say anything? She could have been off the streets years ago if you had."

"I-I can't tell him," Juliet stammered. "He won't believe me, especially not after how badly I lied to him about Mr. Carpenter." She shook her head again. "And _you_ have to promise me that you won't tell him, either."

She could see Tessa gulping, but there was no response. "Please!"

The deadly silence lingered for a few more moments, until Tessa let out a sigh. "Alright," she said, looking defeated, and the red left her face in a flash. "It's your life. I won't say anything."

Juliet smiled slightly. "Thanks," she said and sniffed again. Tessa nodded curtly and took her phone out from her purse and began to type something in.

"What are you doing?" asked Juliet, hoping to God that she wasn't texting the entire school.

"I'm on Google. I'm looking up "accessory to rape.'" Tessa said. "I want to know if it's a real thing and if you _can_ be charged for not doing anything to stop it. It definitely should be a law."

Juliet sighed and rubbed her eyes. She never should have said anything, because now Tessa wasn't going to let this go. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom and get some tissues. I'll be right back."


	5. Chapter 5

Ringer, Season 2, Chapter Five

Andrew finally arrived at the McDonald's on Second Avenue at ten till five, ten minutes before Solomon had said Bridget would be off work. It was plenty of time for him to formulate what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it.

When he opened the door to the restaurant, the smell of fast-food filled his nose. It was a smell he wasn't used to anymore, as he hadn't had any in years, probably not since Juliet's fifth birthday party. Upon entering, he also noticed that the place was quite empty for a McDonald's. He had expected there to be a throng of people in line, but he only found one, a young boy ordering chocolate chip cookies. It was a blessing and a curse, because it gave him only a short amount of time before the woman behind the counter asked what he needed, but the quicker she acknowledged him, the quicker he could see Bridget.

And it came all too fast. The boy walked away happily with his cookies and the young girl, probably no older than Juliet, turned her attention to Andrew.

"Welcome to McDonald's," she said with a smile that seemed to be genuine, but he couldn't tell for sure. "My name is Amy. How may I help you today?"

Andrew hesitated. "I'm not here to order anything. I'm actually here to speak to Bridget."

"Oh." The girl looked at him strangely, and he could have sworn that, for a millisecond, she looked him up and down, as though she were judging him. "Sure," she drawled, a suspicious tone to her voice that he didn't understand. "I'll go get her for you. She's in the back washing the oatmeal spoons."

Not knowing what else to do, he nodded in thanks and took a deep breath, bracing himself.

* * *

Bridget was hovering over the huge sink in the back behind the kitchen and scrubbing the spoons with all her might. Of all the things she could do with ten minutes left of her shift, this was not her favorite. The oatmeal would always cake on and it practically took an army to get the spoons clean. It was exhausting. But, the more that she thought about it, her feelings of fatigue could have equally been the pregnancy talking.

When the last speck of the grimy grain wouldn't come of, she grabbed the hose from above the sink and decided let the water do the work, and it sprayed her straight in the face and all over her clothes. She was drenched.

_Great. _

"Hey Bridget." Amy, a nineteen-year-old college student who had relieved Bridget of her position up on front counter a few minutes before, appeared next to her. "There's a guy here to see you."

That was perplexing. "Who?" she asked, wiping pieces of her wet blonde hair out of her eyes. Solomon didn't get off work until seven tonight and she didn't know any other men in New York. Well, besides Andrew, that is.

"Uh, no one. Just some_ impossibly handsome British guy_!" Amy said, her tone a mixture of excitement and sarcasm. "He looks like he could buy this whole freaking franchise!"

Bridget felt her face pale drastically. That was not possible.

Amy's eyes widened as she noticed Bridget's reaction. "I knew it! He's your baby daddy, isn't he?"

So, yes, against her better judgment that morning, Bridget had told everyone about her newfound pregnancy. She wished she could have kept it a secret.

She didn't know what to do now. Why was Andrew here to talk to her? He wanted nothing to do with her anymore. It didn't make sense.

"Go ahead and clock out, Bridget. Amy can finish these," their manager, Sam, came out of the office across the way. "Besides, I've got Raul coming in five minutes. Go ahead and go home."

Bridget sighed and handed Amy the plastic holder for the spoons. "Put all the clean ones in here," she said, and made her way to the front, her stomach churning violently as she thought about what awaited her.

She practically began to hyperventilate as she reached the front counter monitor to punch out, but she didn't look around her as she did so. She couldn't bear to look at him.

But, she couldn't escape his charm.

"Bridget," she heard his soft Welsh voice whisper, almost pleadingly.

She couldn't help it. She looked up and there he was, dressed in his usual suit and tie. He must have just come from work. He was just as handsome as ever, but he looked sad, and tired, and she noticed several indiscriminate cuts on his face.

"Hello Andrew," she said quietly, turning her eyes to her feet.

"We need to talk," he said.

"About what?" She bit her lip, worried about what he might have come to say, but she had no idea in her mind as to what that might be.

"Can we go sit down?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, still averting his eyes.

He led her to a two-person table near the back door and they sat. There was a moment of silence as she fiddled with her thumbs, not knowing what to say.

"Look," he finally said. "I know that, by now, you probably don't want anything to do with me, but…I have to tell you that I'm sorry, for everything I said. I…I forgive you."

She looked up at him, startled. This was not what she had expected. Then again, she hadn't known what to expect from him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He sighed. "I mean…I should have never judged you. I should have forgiven you the moment you told me the truth. I was such a hypocrite… I'm so sorry."

He kept his eyes intently on her face.

"Are you really?" she asked him. "What-what made you change your mind?"

He let out another sigh. "Bridget, I've made my fortunate off of scamming everyone I know. I cheated, I lied, and I led everyone on, and through it all, you stayed with me. I should have realized from the beginning that you truly loved me. I was happier with you than I ever was with anyone. I _need _you, Bridget… I'm so sorry…I…" he swallowed. "I love you."

Tears were beginning to form behind his lovely brown eyes. Bridget's heart was racing. This is what she had always wanted, what she had hoped for, but never thought would happen.

"Andrew..." she finally whispered. It took her a moment, but she made her decision and, reaching across the table, she took his now ringless hand and slowly entwined her fingers with his.

Before he could respond, she had gotten up and walked in two steps across the tiny table, their hands still tangled together. She placed her free hand on the back of his head and captured his lips with hers. A wave of passion, like that of electricity, shot through her body as he returned the kiss, and soon, she had slithered into his lap. She didn't care that they were in a public place.

Their kiss lasted longer than she cared to know, but when they finally found release, Andrew looked at her with love in his eyes and was smiling brightly.

"Come home," he said. "_Please _come home."

* * *

He felt ecstatic. His heart was beating faster than it ever had in his life. He could honestly say that he was happy.

She had decided to come home with him. He and Bridget were now in his limo heading for Solomon's apartment to pick up the rest of her things. They held hands and she had her head resting on his shoulder. He wanted to relish this moment forever, when she spoke.

"What about Siobhan?" she asked. "Have you divorced her yet?"

He sighed. He didn't want to think about it. "The divorce isn't final yet, no. My lawyers say it'll take about five more months."

Bridget looked up at him. "What about her babies? Are…are they yours?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. They're home with a nanny at the moment. It was a bit shocking to know I had them at first, but now I'm happy with it, and so is Juliet."

"Good," she said. "I know you're a wonderful father." He didn't agree with that, but he didn't know how to respond.

There was more silence as a question came into Andrew's mind. It was something he had been wondering for weeks, but he couldn't ask. Now was his chance. He had to know. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but I need to know. What happened to Siobhan's son?" He knew that Siobhan had blamed Bridget for his death, but he never understood why.

Bridget's mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was distant and a tear fell down her cheek. "His name was Sean…He was killed in a car accident when he was three." She sighed and wiped her face with her hand. "What happened was…his father was estranged from her and she wouldn't let him see him. But, one day, he came by and wanted to take him to a carnival in town with me. I shouldn't have said yes without Siobhan knowing, but I did, and we went…and then…."

A haunting look filled her eyes and she gripped his hand tighter. "Go on," he said. "Don't be afraid."

"When we were coming home that night, we got hit—the driver fell asleep at the wheel—and…Sean didn't make it." She shook her head. "And Siobhan blamed me for what happened."

He felt his eyes widen in shock. His heart began to burn with rage at his wife.

"That's why I started the drinking and all the drugs," Bridget continued. "I blamed myself, too, but when I came to New York in September, she told me that I was forgiven. I believed her up until I found out that she set me up. Now, I feel more horrible than ever."

There was a long silence. Andrew was shocked. "You know it wasn't your fault," he finally said and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her tenderly on the top of the head. "She had no right to blame you. You did nothing wrong."

"I know in my mind that that's true," she said. "But, in my heart, I can't get rid of the feeling. I still feel terrible." She looked out the window and changed the subject just as the car came to a stop. "Here's the apartment."

They got out of the limo and walked up two flights of stairs before Bridget pulled out a key from inside her pocket. The inside of the apartment wasn't what Andrew had expected at all. It was small and cramped, not the place for a man who was receiving a six figure salary.

"I've been sleeping on his couch," Bridget explained as she walked into the living room and grabbed a small duffle bag. "This is most of it, but I have something to give you. It's a surprise."

"A surprise?" he echoed. "A surprise for what?"

"You'll see," she said smiling. "Come into the kitchen with me." She led him in and walked over to a drawer near the stove.

"Now, close your eyes and hold out your hand," she said as she opened the drawer.

He didn't know what game she was playing, but he went along with it. In a matter of seconds, he felt something being placed in his hand. It had the texture of a plastic ziplock bag.

"Now, you can open your eyes," she said. "Look what's in your hand."

He did so, and he knew immediately what he was looking at: a ziplock bag filled with three positive pregnancy tests.

"You're…?" He felt himself shaking.

"Yeah," she said. "It's yours."

"How far along?"

"The doctor estimated around four weeks."

His heart began to pound. He couldn't believe it. "Four children," he whispered, suddenly feeling a bit light headed.

"Are you ok?" she asked, concern in her voice.

He nodded, trying to absorb everything. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just…so shocking. But," he pulled himself together. "It's nothing we can't handle. We'll be ok."

"I know that now," Bridget said, smiling. "I was trying to think of a way to tell you, but you saved me a lot of time, not to mention, anxiety."

He took a step forward and kissed her lips again. "I'm more than happy to raise my children with you. I know you'll be a wonderful mother to all of them."

She smiled weakly, but before she could speak, Andrew's phone rang. He decided to answer it because he thought, on an off chance, that it might have been one of his divorce lawyers with news. Maybe they had found a way to speed up the process.

But, when he looked at the Caller I.D., it turned out to be number that he didn't recognize.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly.

"Hello," a small voice at the other end of the line said timidly. "Is this Andrew Martin?"

"Yes, this is he," he said. "How may I help you?"

There was a deep intake of breath from the other end of the line. "Ok, I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but this is Tessa Banner."

"Tessa Banner?" he echoed. Of course, he remembered her, and he suddenly felt angry again. "How did you get this number?"

There was a pause. "I stole it from Juliet's phone when she went to the bathroom. Look, I was with her about thirty minutes ago and she told me something that I really think you should hear. I mean, she didn't want me to tell you, and I didn't even _believe_ her at first, but I think she's telling the truth, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't let you know."

"What is it, Tessa?" He was growing impatient.

"Are you sitting down?" the girl asked.

"Why?" _Get to the point, _he thought.

"Because you're gonna want to kill someone when you hear this."


	6. Chapter 6

Season Two, Chapter Six. Please read and review!

After her ordeal with Tessa, Juliet had gone to the public library to make an attempt to study for her chemistry test tomorrow, but she couldn't do it. She stayed there, hovering over her textbooks, for hours, crying, feeling ashamed, angry, worried. She never she should have brought it up. She never should have said anything, because all it did was open old wounds.

Finally, around eight o'clock, after getting nothing done, she decided to go home. She took a taxi to the apartment, and by the time she got there, she had to run inside because the dark clouds that had been forming all day finally burst and the rain started to pour. She put her head down and made her way to the elevator, barely even noticing the new doorman, Jack, greet her. She put in the code and stepped inside, wondering what her father would say about her being gone so long. She looked down at her Blackberry. "Ten missed calls from Daddy" the words read. Oops. He must have been worried, but there was no point in calling him back now.

When the elevator finally opened to the foyer of the Martin household, Juliet had expected to hear babies crying and at least one of her sisters slung over her father's shoulder. That had become the norm. The calmness of last night was a rarity.

However, upon sticking her foot in the threshold, Juliet's heart lept at what she saw: a beautiful blonde woman wearing sweatpants and a cardigan making her way towards her, fast.

"Juliet—" she began, but before she could say anything else, Juliet had flung herself into her arms.

"Bridget!" she shouted as she hugged her, taking in the smell of her freshly shampooed hair. "I knew you would come back eventually! I knew it!" She let go and looked her in the eye. "Are you here to stay?"

"I hope so," Bridget said, but oddly, there was a look in her eyes that told Juliet that she wasn't happy about something. "But Juliet—"

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Andrew appeared. His eyes were blazing with an anger that Juliet didn't understand.

"_Where the hell have you been?" _ he shouted, his accent cutting through the air like a knife. It always did that when he was angry. Juliet wondered if American fathers had the same effect on their children. Probably not.

"I-I went to the library to study!" she said quickly. "I have a chemistry test tomorrow."

But, the look on his face told her that he wasn't satisfied with her answer. In fact, she wasn't even sure her tardiness was why he was really angry.

"Sit!" he commanded.

"But, what did I—" Juliet began timidly.

"I said 'sit.' Now!"

She did as she was told and sat down on the couch in the living room. Bridget followed suit.

Andrew pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair, obviously trying to control his anger. When he did speak, his voice was low.

"Tessa Banner called me this afternoon," he said, looking her straight in the eye. Her blood ran cold. She could feel her face paling. "And I think you know what she told me."

Juliet sat there, feeling as if her whole world was collapsing. She began to shiver, her mouth agape, as she tried to formulate something in her mind to say. But, she had no answer.

Andrew crossed his arms. "Is it true?" he asked, his eyes still on her. "I can't take any more lies, especially not from you." He came closer, until he was merely inches away from her. "If this is a lie, I don't know what I'll do, but you _will _regret it." She looked straight up at him. She and her father had the exact same eyes, the same color, the same shape. It was scary to see them so angry. "Were you or were you not raped, Juliet?"

She began to breathe heavily. She wanted nothing more than to run and hide and never be seen again.

"Juliet," Bridget's pleading voice broke the silence from beside her and she took her hand. "Please tell us the truth."

More silence followed, but as she stared at her lap, Juliet knew that she couldn't keep it a secret forever. So, she let it all out. Everything that had happened that night, every last detail that she could recall, every last act that he had forced her to perform, even down to the fact that she had bled for days afterward and that Catherine had smacked her in the face upon hearing her story. When she was finished speaking, she felt completely broken, and it took her only a moment to realize that what she had just told them was far more descriptive and violent than anything she could have fabricated with Mr. Carpenter. Silent tears were streaming down her face, her head buried in Bridget's chest. She could feel it as Bridget's own tears fell on the top of her head. She wished one of her sisters would cry and break the silence, but nothing happened, until Andrew sat down on her other side. He had his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his tears and his anger, but it didn't work.

"And you never saw his face?" he finally asked, his voice distant, hot tears flowing down his cheeks.

"N—no," she rose up her head and tried to wipe her eyes. Bridget stroked her hair. "It was too dark. But… when he put his mouth on me, I felt stubble."

Andrew's body tensed even more, if that were possible, and he took in a deep breath. "And is there any way you can prove that Catherine knew what was happening? Can you be sure she was in the house?"

Juliet let out a sigh, trying to think. "I know she was there _before _it happened. I mean, I heard the front door open, I heard her laughing and talking with him, but I just ignored it and went back to sleep…."

"So, you don't know if she was actually there _while _it was happening?"

Another horrible silence followed as realization dawned on her. No. She couldn't know for sure.

"But…she was there when he left later that morning," she said. Could she use that against Catherine? "I went running out of my room and found her asleep on the couch in the living room. So, I figured she had to be there all night."

"But, that's not good enough," Bridget cut in, sniffling. "You have to be sure. She can't be held responsible if you don't have any proof."

"She'll deny it," Andrew said, shaking his head and wiping his eyes. "She'll deny even being there; and what about your clothes? Your underwear? Your pajamas? Your bed sheets? What did you do with them?"

"I…I threw them all away," she responded, now knowing that doing so was probably the biggest mistake she could make. "I just…couldn't stand to keep them. They had his sweat all over them. They _smelled _like him…."

That was the last straw for her father. He rose off the couch with a look on his face that she recognized. He was going to be sick.

Sure enough, within seconds, he had ran to the bathroom and vomited.

* * *

That night, Juliet ended up crying herself to sleep. Bridget had decided to come to bed with her, to comfort her, until she fell asleep. By the time she finally had, it was one o'clock in the morning. Bridget gave her one last stroke of the cheek and kissed her forehead before the leaving the room. She closed the door behind her and walked into the dining room, where she found Andrew, gripping the back of a chair, still on the phone with his lawyer. They had been talking, on speaker, for almost four hours, and seemed to be getting nowhere.

"I want that whore buried under the jail for what she did to my child," Andrew practically shouted.

"I know, Andrew," his lawyer was trying to calm him, "but she's already in a psychiatrist facility—"

"Listen to me!" He grabbed the chair he had been gripping and knocked it straight to the floor with a loud _crash_. "I have had to put up with that woman for nearly two _fucking _decades, and I can tell you that there is absolutely _nothing _mentally ill about her. She is a liar, she is manipulative, and she will do anything she wants. I am not going to pay for her to be in some cushy facility where she has the right to even breathe! I want her in solitary confinement. In fact, I'd request the death penalty if I could."

"I know, Andrew," his lawyer said again, "I'm so sorry about what happened to your daughter, but with no DNA, no evidence and no leads, we can't do anything. We can try to get Catherine to give us the guy's name, but honestly, I don't see her doing that, unless we give her a deal. I'm sorry. I really am, but I can't do anything to help you."

Andrew hung up and practically threw the phone on the table. He began to sob. Bridget came over and put her arms around him. They stood there, holding each other, for a long time, until Andrew spoke.

"It's all my fault." His voice came out hoarsely.

"Andrew..." Bridget began, trying to reason with him.

"No!" he shouted, looking her in the eye. "Don't start that! It _is _my fault. I _never _in a million years should have let her get on that plane to Miami. I should have forced her to stay in New York with me."

"And why didn't you?" Bridget asked.

"Because…" he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Juliet was angry with me for my affair with Siobhan. She didn't want anything to do with me after that. She hated me, so I let her go with Catherine. But, I should have known not to!"

He started crying again and Bridget led him over to the couch.

"Catherine never loved her," he said. "She neglected her her entire life. She was even abusive. I remember… when Juliet was five, the company I was working for at the time sent me to California for about a week, and when I came back, Juliet had sprained her wrist." He stared out in front of him, tears continuing to flow from his eyes. "The doctors told me that she had fallen down the stairs, but…" he shook his head. "I _knew _better. I_ knew_ Catherine had done it, but I couldn't prove it."

He pursed his lips and wiped his eyes. "I should have left her right then."

"Where did you even meet her?" Bridget had to ask. To her, it didn't seem logical that a man like him would have ever gotten mixed up with a woman like Catherine.

He put his arm around her and brought her head under his chin. "At school," he said quietly. "I was twenty years old. I received a scholarship to study abroad in America for a year, so I took the opportunity. I grew up thinking America was the greatest country in the world. I couldn't imagine anything bad happening to me there." He sighed. "We were in the same English class. She sat in front of me, and honestly, I thought she was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen. It didn't matter that she was almost six years my senior. But, before I left Wales, my parents had warned me specifically not to date anyone while I was in America, because they said it wouldn't last. They said that when I came home to Britain, I would have to break up with her anyway, that I couldn't keep a relationship like that alive. But, I didn't listen. I thought everything would be fine… So, I started talking to her, and after about a week, I asked her out."

He wiped his eyes again. Bridget caressed his hand, listening intently.

"She got pregnant on our first date. It was an impulsive…we—we were kissing and…it just _happened_. Afterwards, I knew it was wrong. I knew that I didn't love her the way I had thought I did. I was ashamed. I thought I could just avoid her and never talk about it again, but then, about two weeks later, she told me… She wanted to have an abortion, but I refused. I told her that I wanted children, that I was going to keep the baby. So, we married, and then, it all collapsed from there. She dropped out of university, and I'm not sure when she started drinking, but it was soon after."

"She drank while she was pregnant?" Bridget asked, her mouth agape.

He nodded sadly. "Once. At least I hope that's all it was. I'll never forget, I came home and caught her with a bottle, and I smashed it right in front of her face. Then, when Juliet was born, she didn't want anything to do with her. I remember, I had her in my arms…she was so beautiful. She even had my eyes and my curls…I asked Catherine if she wanted to do so much as kiss her, and she said 'no.' I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. It upset me more than anything in the world. "

"What about your parents?" she asked. "What did they do?"

He let out a very rueful chuckle. "Ha. They practically disowned me when I told them what I'd done. They didn't talk to me for about a year. They didn't even meet Juliet until she was about two years old."

There was a long silence, and Bridget drank it all in. She had never imagined that Andrew had gone through so much in his life.


	7. Chapter 7

Season Two, Chapter Seven.

**Hey guys! How is everybody? I'm getting disappointed that I've posted five chapters and I haven't gotten a single review! Please take a few moments and do so for this chapter! **

**Thanks,**

**Amélie**

Juliet woke up late for school the next day, the alarm on her phone having not gone off. It did that sometimes. When she finally did wake up, she jumped out of bed and threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. She didn't care what she looked like.

When she walked into the kitchen, she found Andrew and Bridget, dressed for the day, feeding Portia and Regan their formula. It was a very peaceful sight to Juliet, seeing Bridget there, taking care of her sister's children, and it would have been a happy sight had last night's revelation not occurred. She felt a sadness overtake her. She wished everything could be good again.

Upon seeing his daughter enter the room, Andrew rose from his seat and enveloped her in a tight hug, giving her a long, firm kiss on the cheek, and this made Juliet even sadder. She knew that he blamed himself for what Catherine had allowed to happen. She wanted to say that he shouldn't do that, that it wasn't his fault, but she knew it would be of no use.

"I love you so much, sweetheart," he said.

"I love you too, Daddy," she responded and looked him in the eye. He looked so sad. It broke her heart. "I'm late for school… I have to go."

She walked over to the table and quickly kissed Bridget good-bye before bounding out the door.

By the time she got to school, first period had already begun, and it just happened to be the one period in which she had her chemistry test. Oh, well. She knew she wouldn't have passed it anyway. Walking by Dr. Carter's desk hurriedly, she grabbed a blank test and stumbled into her seat. She took one look down at the paper, wrote her name on it, and contemplated turning it back in the way it was. Soon after, the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, and she put her blank paper in the pile with the other students' tests.

Dr. Carter noticed that it was blank and looked up at her. "Juliet, you didn't even _start_ your test."

"I didn't have enough time," she replied. It was the best and only excuse she could give. But, before Dr. Carter could respond, Juliet had walked out of her classroom and was making her way to her locker to get her books for the rest of the day.

However, when she arrived, Tessa Banner was already there, waiting for her.

"Juliet—" she began, but Juliet cut her off.

"Move out of the way. I have to get my books." She angrily turned the dial to her combination, hoping that Tessa would take the hint and leave, but no such luck.

"Listen, Juliet, I'm sorry, but I had to tell him. You shouldn't keep something like that a secret."

"And now it's not," Juliet responded simply as she shoved her history book in her backpack. She slammed her locket shut and turned to walk away, but Tessa grabbed her arm.

"Wait!" she pleaded. "What happened? What did he do?"

Juliet let out an angry sigh and gritted her teeth. "Let's see," she said sarcastically. "He confronted me, and he forced me to tell the truth, so I did." She was so angry; she wanted to punch Tessa square in the face. "I decided to tell him every last pornographic detail. Afterwards, he cried." She swallowed hard. "He threw up and then, he called his lawyer, and I'm pretty sure he broke something…I heard a loud crash."

Tessa's face had gone so pale that it looked like she could have been bleeding to death. Her mouth was hanging open. "So…what are they gonna do?"

"Nothing..." Juliet looked down at her feet so that she wouldn't see Tessa's reaction. "They _can't _do anything. I don't have any evidence other than my own memory, and since I couldn't really see his face, I wouldn't be able to I.D. him. Besides, after the whole thing with Mr. Carpenter, no one would believe me anyway."

"What—what about your mother?" Tessa asked. "Can't they do something against her?"

"Like what?" asked Juliet, looking up again. "I can't prove she knew about what was happening. I can't even prove she was in the house, and I know that she won't say anything unless they give her a deal…the last thing I want her to do is walk out free." She sighed and shook her head. "Plus…she's dated so many guys since the divorce. She probably doesn't even remember who he was."

"Juliet, that is _bullshit _as hell and you know it!" Tessa nearly shouted, her face turning from white to red. "You know she knows exactly who he was. I'm willing to bet she even showed him to your room!"

Huh. Maybe. It would come as no surprise.

Juliet shrugged, defeated. "It doesn't matter. She's not going to talk. Like I said, she'll want a deal, and I can't have that."

"Well…" Tessa paused and the bell signaling the start of second period rang. Neither of them had even noticed that they were now the only two in the hallway. "Maybe a deal is what they need to give her. I mean, I know you don't like the idea of it, but you know that you probably weren't his only victim. He's probably done that to dozens of girls by now, and he's just gonna keep going. They need to get him off the street."

There was another pause as Tessa's words sank into Juliet's mind.

She was right. He had to be stopped.

"Ok," Juliet said slowly, nodding. "I'll call my dad right now."

* * *

Bridget didn't perform well at work that day. Within thirty minutes of her shift, she had messed up five orders, and that was something she never did. When asked what was wrong, of course she attributed her mistakes to her pregnant brain. She couldn't tell them what was really wrong.

She began to feel light-headed around two hours in and just had to sit down.

"Do you need to go home?" Amy asked her from her position in the drive-through window.

"No, I don't think so. I'm just a little woozy."

"It must be hard being pregnant," said Amy.

"Yeah, it is," Bridget responded. Her stomach was in such a knot that she was having a hard time even breathing.

"Don't worry," said Amy. "It'll pass."

No it wouldn't. Not this. Juliet would have to live with it for the rest of her life. Bridget couldn't believe that she had kept it a secret for so long.

She sat down for a few more minutes and then completed the rest of her shift in a daze before Andrew showed up.

"Juliet called me from school this morning," he said as they were driving home. "And it really got me thinking."

"About what?" Bridget asked.

He let out a sigh. It didn't seem like he was happy about what he was going to say. "The only way we can catch the man who did this to her is by getting Catherine to talk."

"Yeah," she said. "How can we make her?"

"Well, the only way she's going to is if we cut her a deal."

Bridget's heart sunk as she realized what he meant. "No." she shook her head. "No! We can't do that! She'll _walk._"

"Maybe not," he said, looking grim. "Maybe just a lighter sentence. I know she doesn't deserve it, but you know it's the only way he'll get caught."

Yes. She knew that was true. "Ok," she said, linking arms with him and resting her head on his chest.

"I still can't believe it happened," he said. "Of all the things in my life…I've been shot, I've been defrauded, I've been held hostage, I've been cheated on and lied to, but honestly, this has to be the worst. I mean, God, I can't fathom the torture that she went through, and I can't believe that I wasn't there to protect her."

"I know, Andrew," she said. "But, there was nothing you could do. You didn't know. You can't blame yourself."

After saying it, she realized that his blaming himself with Juliet was the same as hers with Sean. It was one big cycle.

"You know that when they do catch him, you can't go anywhere near him. I forbid it." she finally said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you'll kill him. You'll absolutely, positively kill him, and I couldn't bear that if you did. You are a man who takes bullets, not one who gives them."

"I never said I would kill him," he countered.

"But you were thinking it," she said.

"Alright," he finally admitted. "I was thinking of it. The whole thing is just too horrible not to consider something like that. What father wouldn't? He didn't just have sex with her. God, he gave her bruises. He made her bleed…my little girl… It makes me so sick."

"Me too," she said, rubbing his arm.

When they arrived home, Andrew paid the nanny while Bridget took a quick shower to wash off all the grease and salt. When she came out, Andrew was in the bedroom changing out of his business attire. When she took one look at his bare, toned chest, her heart began to race. She knew it wasn't appropriate, especially not after everything that had happened last night with Juliet, but she couldn't help it.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap," she said, trying to stifle her sexual urges. Besides, she _was_ feeling a bit tired.

"Go ahead," he said, placing a hand on her stomach. "I know you need it."

"Will you be ok with the babies?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, smiling. "If they wake up, I can handle it. I've done it before."

He kissed her lips. "Have a good sleep."

She smiled back and went to close the curtains on the window before falling asleep.

* * *

While Bridget slept, Andrew tried to get some work done. However, about an hour in, one of the twins started crying and he was forced to stop. It turned out to be Portia needing her diaper changed.

He heard the elevator door open just as he put her on the changing table.

"Daddy? Bridget?" Juliet called. Andrew heard a _thud _signaling that her backpack had just hit the ground.

"In the nursery," he called back.

Juliet quickly walked into the room. "Hey—ew!"

He rolled his eyes as he grabbed some wet wipes and a clean diaper from under the table. "Be mature," he admonished. "It's not like you didn't do the same thing."

"It's still gross," she said. "Where's Bridget?"

"Taking a nap," he said, undoing Portia's diaper.

"In your bed?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes," he replied. "We don't have anywhere else for her to sleep. The guestroom is taken, obviously."

"So...are you guys, like, an official couple now?" Juliet inquired, hopeful.

"I hope so," he said, as he grabbed a wet wipe and began to clean Portia up. "I've told her I want to raise my children with her, but we haven't discussed being official."

"What about Siobhan? Where is she?"

"She went to California," he said simply. "I told her I never wanted to see her again, so she went."

"Oh ok. That's good. I'm glad she's gone, but is Bridget ok? Is she mad? Like, what is she doing asleep in the middle of the day?" Juliet asked. "That's weird."

"Well…" he thought about telling her about the other new addition to their family, but he decided against it. He thought it better for Bridget to tell her in person. "She had a hard day at work," he finally decided to say.

"It…wasn't because of me, was it?" Juliet sounded afraid.

"No," he said, not looking at her. He threw Portia's dirty diaper in the trashcan beside the table and began putting a clean one on her. "Actually…Juliet, I think we need to talk."

"About what?" she asked.

"About everything," he said, picking Portia up and placing her over his shoulder. "Your whole life, we've never had a real conversation, and I need to apologize for not being there for you."

"_What_?" she walked closer to him. "Daddy, what happened wasn't your fault at all! It was Mom's!_ She's_ the one who should be feeling guilty, not you."

"I never should have left you with her," he said, ignoring her. "I knew that she was abusive to you. I should have known what she was capable of….I'm so sorry, Juliet."

"Daddy…." She put her arm around him. "I don't blame you at all. I _love _you. You know I do."

"I know," he said. "But, I don't deserve your love."

She sighed, not saying anything. They stood there in silence for a while, listening to the sound of Portia cooing over her father's shoulder, when Juliet spoke.

"Daddy, I have to ask you something."

He looked down at her. "What is it?"

Juliet bit her lip. "Do you remember when Mom went to the hospital a few weeks ago, you know, after she cut herself?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Well, when we were alone, we were talking and she told me something that really disturbed me." Her face went white. "Um…she told that the only reason why she had kids was because you wanted them, and it got me wondering…."

Andrew felt his face grow hot and his stomach twist. He knew exactly what she was going to ask.

"Would…I mean, if you hadn't wanted me…would she have just aborted me?"

His emotions turned from fear to anger. "Why would you ever ask me a question like that?"

"Daddy…please…tell me the truth." He felt her arm tighten around him.

He sighed. She deserved to know the truth. "Fine. Yes, she wanted to, but I stopped her. I didn't believe in it…but, you're here now, and that's all that matters."

He kissed her on the forehead. "I'm sorry she was such a monster to you."


	8. Chapter 8

Season Two, Chapter Eight

**Hey guys! Here's Chapter Eight. I hope you're enjoying everything thus far and PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!**

**Thanks so much,**

**Amélie**

Around one o'clock in the morning, both Portia and Regan awoke screaming, thereby waking up everyone else in the apartment. Andrew and Bridget changed their diapers and rocked them back and forth, but the fussiness didn't stop. Bridget decided to go into the kitchen and retrieve their formula, but when she arrived back into the nursery, they had already fallen back to sleep in their crib with Andrew singing to them softly in Welsh.

"Wow. You have a wonderful voice," she said.

"Thanks." He smiled. "I used to sing to Juliet all the time when she was a baby."

"Have you ever thought of singing professionally?" she asked. "I mean, you're _really _good."

He chuckled."I was a soloist in choir in secondary school, but no, I've never thought of it as a career."

"Well, if something happens and business doesn't work out for you, I think you should consider it."

He gave her a look. "Right," he said. "I'm almost forty. How many singers do you know who start their careers that late?"

"I'm only kidding," she said. "But, you never know. It could happen."

They went back to sleep, but Andrew awoke about an hour later to the sound of Bridget's vomiting. He ran to the bathroom and found her clutching the toilet seat. Leaning down beside her, he held back her hair and rubbed her shoulders.

"It's ok," he said. "It'll go away."

"I think I just peed on the floor," she said as she caught her breath.

"It's alright," he said. "I can clean it up."

The vomiting went on for a few more minutes before Andrew led Bridget back to bed. She was trembling, and she wrapped the covers up around her chin. Andrew wrapped his arms around her and waited until she fell asleep again before he closed his eyes.

Later that morning, Bridget was still ill and couldn't get out of bed. Andrew tried to give her some water, but she couldn't keep it down.

"Do you think you need an I.V.?" he asked, worried. "I don't want you to become dehydrated."

"No, I think I'm fine. I just need to rest for a while. It'll pass." She closed her eyes and settled her head back down on the pillow.

He crawled in to bed next to her and stroked her hair.

"You don't have to stay with me all day," she said, her eyes still closed.

"Why not?" he asked. "You stayed with me after I was shot."

"That was different," she said. "You were helpless. You couldn't move on your own without ripping your stitches. You couldn't be alone."

That was true. He couldn't even use the bathroom on his own. It was embarrassing.

"I'll be fine," she said. "This is just a little rough patch. You go take care of the babies."

Juliet's head appeared in the doorway. "What's going on? Are you ok, Bridget?"

She walked into the room and sat down on the bed, a look of concern on her face, while Andrew and Bridget looked at each other and smiled.

"Actually, Juliet…" Bridget took her hand. "We were gonna wait to tell you, but…I'm pregnant."

Juliet's mouth dropped open. "What the crap!" she shouted. "Are you serious? You mean I'm getting _another_ sibling?" Then, to Andrew's surprise, she added, jokingly. "Daddy, you need surgery."

He felt himself blush. "You're terrible," he said.

"It's true," she said, reaching over and patting Bridget's stomach. "Anyway, I hope it's a boy this time. I'd like to have a brother."

"Yeah, I agree," said Bridget. "I think we need more men in this house."

Before Andrew could agree as well, his phone rang. He looked at the Caller I.D. It was his attorney, so he put the phone on speaker.

"Miles?" he said. "How can I help you?"

"Hey Andrew. I hope I'm not bothering you, but I'm actually on my way to Ward's Island right to talk to Catherine."

Juliet made a surprised noise. Bridget stayed silent, but her eyes grew wide.

"You are?" Andrew asked, surprised as well. "That was awfully fast."

"Well, you wanted to get her to talk, so I moved fast. Unfortunately, I don't know how much info I'll get. Her attorney will be there."

"Well, I would expect that," said Andrew. Then, just out of curiousity, he asked, "Who is her attorney?"

"Leslie Shore," Miles replied.

"Leslie Shore…" the name was familiar. Then, it hit him. "She's Olivia's attorney."

"Oh, my God!" Juliet shouted. "What is Olivia still doing with her?" Bridget gave the girl a look and shook her head.

But, Miles heard that comment. "Well, apparently, she still has feelings for her."

Not knowing what else to say, Andrew sighed. "Alright. Well, good luck. I hope we get somewhere."

* * *

Kirby Psychiatric Facility on Ward's Island was very close to being a prison. The patients were pretty much in solitary confinement all day long, with little to no contact with the outside world, and of course, Catherine Martin's situation was no different. In fact, given her record, she was probably one of the most confined.

Olivia Charles arrived at the facility around two o'clock that afternoon, not knowing what to expect. She had visited Catherine before, but never with her attorney. None of them had any idea why an attorney of Andrew's wanted to meet with them, but Olivia, for one, hoped against hope that it was for some sort of plea bargain that would get her out of there.

Upon entering the interrogation room, she noticed that Catherine and Leslie Shore were already present. Whereas Shore was dressed like a prim and proper businesswoman, Catherine looked like hell. Her light brown roots were beginning to show rather badly, her skin had broken out with acne, and she looked like she had lost twenty pounds.

"Hey honey," Olivia greeted her with a smile and sat down in the chair next to her. "How are you doing?"

"Obviously I've been better," Catherine said. "They treat me like shit here."

"_I _can't believe you're wearing _that _to a meeting with an attorney." Shore spoke her first words, gesturing to Olivia's outfit of jeans and a V-neck t-shirt. "I would have thought you of all people would want to look professional."

"Not for any of Andrew's people," Olivia said. "I thought I would dress comfortably today."

"Well, it makes us look terrible."

Olivia shrugged, but didn't say anything.

A few minutes later, Jonathan Miles arrived, dressed in his best, and looking like he meant business.

"I'm Jonathan Miles, Andrew Martin's attorney," he said as he shook hands with each of the women.

"We know who you are," Catherine was the first to speak. "Can we just get this over with? I need to take a nap."

"Yes," said Shore. "Just why exactly are you here? Catherine has already confessed to all the charges against her."

"Good," he said as he took a seat opposite the three of them. "But, I'm here to talk about Catherine's past with her daughter Juliet."

Catherine looked bewildered for a moment. "What could you possibly…?" and then her face paled. "No way! That little bitch! Does she think that because I'm bisexual that she can pull the whole molestation card on me? It's all a lie! I never touched her! God, if her fucking father hadn't been so hell bent on keeping her, I would have—"

"That's not the issue here, Catherine," Miles cut her off. But, before he could say anything else, Catherine was still running her mouth.

"I mean, I'll admit…I might have smacked her around a bit while I was tipsy, but I never shoved my hands down her panties!" Her face had gone from a cream color to almost purple with anger in a split second.

"No, but did anyone else?" Miles asked.

There was a silence as Catherine looked at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He sighed. "Juliet claims that, six years ago in Miami, a man raped her in her own bed while you drank yourself into a stupor. Are you aware of this?"

There was another pause, and Olivia watched as Catherine's entire body tensed and her face grew paler than a sheet. She bit her lip and turned her eyes downward. Olivia sat there in shock.

"Catherine…" she said when she finally found her voice. "Did this really happen?"

Catherine flinched, her eyes still downward.

"Catherine, this is serious. Answer the question," Shore coaxed.

"Do I get a deal?" Catherine's voice was so small that it was barely audible.

Olivia's mouth dropped open and her body began to shake with rage. "_You mean it actually happened_?"

"We'll give you a deal," Miles said. "You'll be given better food, better treatment, more hours outside of your cell, and maybe even a job if you cooperate fully."

"A deal?" shouted Olivia as she rose from her seat. "She doesn't deserve a deal!" She turned angrily to Catherine and grabbed her shoulders. "You tell us what happened right now or I'll slap you clear in the face!"

"You do that, Miss Charles, and one of the officers outside this door will arrest you, too," Mile said calmly, not making a move from his seat.

Shore reached up and put a hand on Olivia's shoulder. "Calm down, Olivia," she said. "It's gonna be fine."

"Tell us what happened, Catherine," Miles prompted, looking her in the face.

There was a long intake of breath from Catherine before she said anything. "Fine. I'll tell you what happened." She bit her lip again. "Andrew and I had just gotten divorced and I needed some company, so I went to a bar, and I met this guy. He was really nice and he seemed to really care about what I had to say."

"Did you tell him that you had a daughter?" asked Miles.

"Well, yeah, of course. He asked me if I had children, so I told him. I mean, come on, it's not like I was looking at his pants when I told him. I had no way of knowing that he would get a boner." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we talked and drank for a few hours and then I brought him home."

"Did you initiate bringing him home or did he?" asked Miles.

"I did," she said. "I told him I lived in a big house and I thought he might want to see it. Besides, I…wasn't ready to let him go. I was really attracted to him."

"And then what happened?"

"We went home, we had sex on the couch in the living room, and then, when I was finished, he let me go back to drinking my wine…but, I guess he wanted more."

"So, you didn't show him to Juliet's room?"

"No," she said. "He found it on his own."

"And did you ever hear her screaming?"

There was a long pause, and Olivia could feel the bile rising in her throat as she waited for the answer. She didn't know Catherine like this.

Catherine finally let out a long breath. "Alright…yeah. I did."

Olivia slapped her fist on the table, and in a quick reflex, Shore grabbed her by the arms before she could do anything else. "How could you let such a thing happen?" Olivia shouted. "She was your_ daughter_!"

"I was drunk," Catherine replied nonchalantly.

"Well, you obviously weren't that drunk if you remember her screaming," said Miles. "Did she tell you what happened afterwards?"

"Yeah," said Catherine, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She woke me up—I had a terrible hangover—and I knew something had happened before she said anything. I mean, she was naked from the waist down and had bruises and blood on her legs."

"She had fucking blood on her legs?" Olivia shouted, still restrained by Shore. "You mean he gave her a laceration and you didn't even take her to the hospital?"

"I couldn't," Catherine explained.

"Because if you did, then the doctors would have had to do a vaginal examination and Andrew would have been notified," Miles finished.

Catherine looked down and ran her tongue over her teeth. "Yeah," she said. "So, I just told her to take a shower. I mean, she healed in a couple of days. It wasn't a big deal."

Olivia found herself holding her breath, trying to restrain herself from lashing out at Catherine.

"Who was he, Catherine?" asked Miles, still very calm. "What was his name?"

Catherine let out another sigh. "He told his name was Eric Crider. He said he was a neurologist."

That was the last straw for Olivia. She tore her arms out of Shore's gripped and slashed Catherine's face with her nails.


End file.
